


The Ivybound Interludes

by EclipseMirror



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Canon-type yuan-ti weirdness, Gen, Homebrew Setting, Lynching, Mid-campaign side story, Sad Ending, Sibling bantering, innuendos, too much Bantering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseMirror/pseuds/EclipseMirror
Summary: It's not every day a vampire lord takes control of the continent you ended up settling in and places a lavish gold bounty on you, the adventurer party you decided to hang around with, and a whole bunch of people associated with any of you- including your estranged hatchmates- by framing you all for his subordinate's blowing up of the capital city.You make do because you're emotionally blank and overly confident that everything will always turn out fine.(They still might, in the long term. But not right now.)Updates every two weeks on Wednesdays.
Kudos: 1





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a story I started writing after I finished guesting for a D&D campaign for some IRL friends. The character I guested with was quite fun to roleplay as and I wanted to write about the adventures he gets up to after leaving the party. However, long story short, I actually ended up rejoining the campaign for good and this fic ended up becoming a segue story for how he returns to the campaign. 
> 
> This story is dedicated to the DM of the campaign Siakre, who helped with the plot and characterisation, because he's awesome.
> 
> A quick introduction so things aren't too confusing:  
> Arbrington- A continent of the landmass 'En Masse'. Capital is the city Kawood.  
> Narcisa Crowe- A powerful vampire. Blew up Kawood.  
> Rearfang- A pureblood ex-assassin team from the yuan-ti tribe Alithas. Consisted of the siblings Ishull, Laertes, Mizshee, Szoni, and Yakli.  
> Thread of Lamala- Bowstring of the legendary Bow of Lamala. Previously in the possession of Narcisa.

It feels like it has been a long time since Laertes had to sleep in silence.

Not absolute silence, of course. The rain showed no signs of stopping anytime soon- its static hush draped over the overhead foliage, punctuated every now and again by the staccato rustling of some nocturnal creature amongst fallen leaves. Any other night and he would probably be finding himself noting individual liquid pinpricks on his skin or trying to guess what each rustle might be. The latter was sort of pointless since his guesses could neither be confirmed nor denied, but it did stop him from becoming completely bored.

Definitely not inner silence. With all the events that had happened in the last few hours, his thoughts still scattered and reverberated about like bat-calls in a cave. 

He wondered how much Ishull had to tell Narcisa about him- how much Ishull had to reveal about Alithas in general- whether he had spilt before or after he stole the Thread- whether Narcisa actually knows and bothers herself about her loss. Karma wasn’t a real force of nature, but tattling oneself into a corner came close to being its existing incarnation. Nonetheless, Ishull always had a talent for going undercover, and he did not appear to have dropped said talent at all. If Laertes had to keep making his way around Arbrington safely, it was still preferable that they worked together.  
He wondered to what extent were some of the more cryptic accusations of the Diablerie true- if they were hiding in plain sight or had to be dug out from under layers of history and poor context. How many eyes did Narcisa have about to gather so much information so quickly anyway? How much did Darius’s list have anything to do with breaking his Oath? How much more had Rosarieta to do with the Emethyr fire than she let on? Laertes made a mental note to ask for more of the others’ tales if they meet again- just for the sake of satisfying his curiosity.

He wondered how he would go about restoring his own reputation- he had started from worse than nothing before, of course, but not on such a large scale. He would definitely have an easier time starting in southwest Arbrington where people knew him better- the vampires did not have the guts to convict Musa or most of his Ivywood friends, after all. Maybe they could somehow vouch for him. Most of them should be strong enough to resist any gaslighting, even if they weren’t as logical as him. The only problem was getting into contact while being stuck in Cleo’s territory. Well, he had always been the best charmer anyway. He’ll change some minds along his way to pick up Szoni.

As an afterthought, he wondered what the new disruption meant for those that were soon to be caught. Did this new problem prefer capturing and boasting over a collection of prisoners? Did he have a heart for torture and mutations like the higher castes in Alithas? Laertes had worked hard to make sure the vampire victims were not as downhearted as they could be, and it was a shame all that hard work was about to go to waste. If he could clear his own name quickly enough, maybe he could push to convince that some of the other bounties were pointless as well. How sacrilegious would it be if he swooped in to save a few of them?  
There was no response save the quiet hissing of rain.

Lonesome silence. That was it. Even while separated from others in the Untamed Mansion by walls, there was always the muffled noise of someone walking through corridors or gossiping formlessly in a nearby room or tinkering away until something clattered. It was easier to unwind when there were friendly people a shout away.  
Now the lack of company was like trying to undress beside a dead campfire. Fleuron was out on perimeter watch for torchlight- and she was not much of one to enjoy his ramblings anyway. Yakli? The big guy was silent even while asleep.

Laertes thumbed the face of Darius’s amulet as he allowed its magic to settle into his gut, huffing out a breath through his nose before returning to listening to his thoughts. Lonesome silence wasn’t new to him. He just had to readapt. That was all.


	2. Sunshower

By morning, the rain had slowed to a fine greyish drizzle that vaporised in the weak haze of sunlight to leave an ankle-deep smudge of fog across the forest floor.

Laertes shared a small breakfast with Yakli of dried jerky and Rosarieta’s cooking amongst the fog, savouring each chunk of flavoured meat for once instead of just swallowing them whole. He’d be lucky to find anyone willing to sell him food in the very near future. 

“We should find a river,” he began, finally interrupting the silence from the previous night, as he watched Fleuron’s slender silhouette slink behind a particularly mossy tree for the fifth time. “They’re colder than I like, but Fleuron travels faster through those. We can slide right down to Bredon without being noticed.”

Yakli nodded slowly, eyes scanning his surroundings as he stood to his full height. Laertes wrapped his rations back up and followed, allowing his habitual half-grin to creep backwards sharper and wider across his cheeks. It felt like he had not properly stretched out his back jaw muscles for a century.

_ Fleuron, darling. Find us a river, would you? _

The kelpie whined as she began lumbering through the undergrowth, ears pricked and nostrils flared. Laertes lazily strode after her, Yakli in tow. Despite all their vigour, the silence still lingered, bleak like the overcast sky beyond the canopy. For colloquialism’s sake, Laertes decided to label it as annoying and declare war on it.

“So, big guy. You must be wondering how I got into this mess, huh?” he began, pausing for dramatic effect without actually looking over at his brother’s response. “I have a feeling this is a story I’m going to have to tell over and over again once we meet the right people. But you get the pre-official version, lucky you.” Pause again. “Well I was strolling around the forests down near Ivywood at dawn- Ivywood’s one of the places I hung out about for the past few years, just so you know- but anyway I spotted this whole bunch of adventurers just resting there...” 

And for a little while, Laertes prevailed in his battle as he launched into a full-scale dramatic retelling, sneaking occasional glances over at Yakli even though the big guy, predictably, just nodded along. Nonetheless, it was difficult for one person -two people, if Yakli’s occasional eyebrow twitch counted as conversation- to fill in the space left behind by eight. By the time Fleuron found a sizable river she could happily paddle about in, Laertes had already finished the key points of his recount. Bredon was still a day or so’s journey away. He had to somehow step up his game.

“Anyway. Fleuron can stick you to her in the water, but feel free to hold onto me anyway,” he segued without pausing, coiling the rest of his cape around his neck and slipping a boot over the kelpie’s back. “We’ll probably stop somewhere to camp at dusk?”

Powerful hands grasped around his waist as Yakli mounted up behind him, hesitatingly allowing his legs to trail in the water. Laertes readjusted his bag to a safer height as Fleuron wriggled a little beneath them, tendrils of flesh already curling around her riders’ legs.

_ Downstream we go, buddy. Pace yourself- we might need to speed up if we see people _ .

She surged forwards.

❧

If rivers -any and all of them- were roads, they would be the deceptively uncomfortable type. Not only were they freezing, but rapids and cascades that cut up clear water into thousands of white glittering pieces that had to be leapt across were common and cropped up without warning. By late afternoon, Laertes could feel the chafing throb against his thighs. But on the other hand, the river was indeed a fast route with no people around as far as the eye could see. And it was scenic too. The Arbrington winter canopy was magnificent in its chaos of mosses and boughs all squabbling for territory. Birds chattered amongst the higher branches, more oblivious to the latest warmblood troubles than their travellers below. 

And then there were the dead bodies.

Twilight had settled in comfortably by the time Yakli pointed out the first one. It was a small figure dangling prominently by the side of a dirt road a distance away from the river, strung up like fish hung out to dry by the rope around its neck. Laertes almost took the time to humour himself with pretending to pity the next warmblood who would stumble upon it. Then he spotted the second one himself just a couple of seconds later along the other side of the same road.

One hanging tends to be a suicide he wasn’t in the right spot to prevent. Two hangings? Something actively malicious was happening. Or it could be a double suicide, but they were rarely weirdly far apart.

_ Alright, back up, Fleuron. I think we’ve found something special. _

The paladin stumbled onto the riverbank towards the road as Fleuron’s tendrils withdrew, shaking the cramps out of his legs. He was once more grateful for the ring that he brought a week or so ago. And the fact that he was more adjusted to the day-long ride than Yakli.

Both of the figures had it rough- their faces were beaten and bloodied to a point that would have disgusted a warmblood torturer. Still, they were unmistakenly elven with their pointed ears and lithe builds. They couldn’t have been much older than Cleo.

“A perfect waste of corpses, wouldn’t you agree?” Laertes remarked as the sound of wet hooves and heavy steps shuffled up behind him. “Even if you were a murderer who wanted to scare travellers, you could leave them somewhere the worms could reach.”

Yakli tapped him on the shoulder guard.

“Well, I guess the flies and crows could find them first anyway. Would smell worse like this, though. What is it, big guy?”

The larger yuan-ti pointed up the path, at the silhouettes of towers ahead that parted the surrounding trees, at the torchlight that dotted the buildings around the towers like brave little stars. It appears that Fleuron outdid herself in travelling speed.

“Ah! That would explain it.”

Laertes might be the type to throw caution to the wind for curiosity’s sake, but he wasn’t actually an idiot. For the next good ten minutes, he combed through the nearby trees looking for freshly resting birds to ask for information about Bredon. A plethora of sleepy chirps later, he had all the information he needed to know about the town.

It was a good thing Laertes stopped Fleuron so soon. Bredon was practically built on water, and if they continued onwards they would have proudly announced their arrival to anyone looking for them. Not that that wasn’t on the list at all.

It appears that whatever revolution the man who had also framed the Diablerie started was already taking its hold. Bredon has been restless since dawn, desecrating two of its five high towers and mobbing some of the elves that lived in the general vicinity. Small groups of armoured folk have been scuttling southward all day, and now as dusk fell the local taverns were bright with food and laughter.

The birds didn’t appear to have taken note of any small, green-eyed ladies with dark hair.

❧

Bredon itself was a nice little lakeside town of cobblestone paths winding between small brick buildings with a bridge here or there crossing between waterways. Sure, it would be a lot nicer without the occasional silver-robed or armoured corpse strewn across the paths, and two of its five towers probably shouldn’t be faintly smoking, but Laertes could see its appeal. Especially with the lack of hostile pitchforks or torches in his face. Thank every and all gods that its townsfolk seem too intent on celebrating this night to occupy the streets.

On the other hand, the lack of people he could safely talk to really limited his options of finding his favourite sibling.

Szoni, like him, had always been the social type. Granted, she was more physical with her approaches, but they used to practically agree on which gaggle of warmbloods to charm without even asking one another. If Laertes had to wager, he would normally place his bets on her flitting somewhere around in a popular yet quietly shady tavern or some luxurious building. While a decade really warped the meaning of ‘normal’, they still would have been good starting spots if the townsfolk wouldn’t be out for his blood.

The yuan-ti turned his attention towards a rowdy tavern as he slowly made his way alongside one of the rivers, Fleuron and Yakli in his wake. Its name looked familiar- related to something Halfyr mentioned before about Salted Blades connections, perhaps. Hopefully any of the gang members got out in time. Through the window he could see figures in the warmly-lit room drinking, nodding and dancing along to an unfamiliar tune. Well. It was probably good for his power that they were happy.

“You. You’re that terrorist.”

There was someone in the river- a stringy woody figure with a head of small, glossy olive leaves. Laertes cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head very slightly at the accusation.

“I am?” he queried in Common back.

“Don’t think you can trick me. You burned down Kawood, you and that  _ group _ of yours. All those trees...” she trailed off, glaring up at him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you in this second.”

“You’re talking like that man who made the announcement didn’t destroy an entire grove raising his castle out of the ground,” Laertes responded, matching the dryad’s beady stare calmly. “A grove which I helped to grow to try and help mitigate damage from the attack, by the way.”

The dryad narrowed her eyes. “I don’t sense you to be the type who can grow a grove from the ground up.”

“Ah! But I have connections. Does Lord Musa, Herald of Silvanus, ring a bell?”

A twitch. “The high priest of Balyviros.”

“Precisely! We’re on good terms, see.” He patted Silvanus’s symbol at his waist and let a small smile grace his lips. “Did you really reckon that this strange man who showed up in people’s minds out of the blue would tell the exact truth about everything?” 

The dryad went silent. 

Seeing her stance slowly relax, Laertes continued onwards. “Look, it’s a long story that I’d love to explain to Arbrington someday, but only when it’s safe for me. For now, I’m just trying to find my sister. Have you seen her, by the way? The pink-tattooed one with the yellow skirt. I’m worried for her safety.” He changed his expression to a slightly concerned frown.

The dryad looked down towards the water, silent for a few more moments. “I saw someone like that earlier, yes,” she spoke, gesturing towards some back alleyways a few more paces ahead. “Darting around buildings. Was briefly cornered between those alleys by some plucky adventurers before walking out alone and heading lakewards.”

Laertes allowed the smile to return. “Thank you kindly. You’re a lifesaver.” 

The dryad shook her head. “Just don’t let me see you around here again.”   
“I’ll be out of here once I find her, I promise. If you could, can you please cast some doubt on what that man said about me and the rest of the group?”

“With everyone riled up? I don’t think I’ll be able to get a word in, but I can try.”

“Thank you kindly. Again.”

He quickened his step a little as he headed off towards where he was pointed.

Unfortunately, there was nobody in the alleyway- only scuffled stone, torn-up moss, and a few blood splatters. Or maybe it was fortunate. It would become harder to explain his innocence if he was found standing amongst a pile of bodies.

Laertes leaned up against the nearest wall. Yakli had volunteered to search the lakeside, and he had sent Fleuron to look out for the big guy- it was safe for her to be in plain sight, after all. On one hand, it would be easy for him to just lay low and wait for them to report back. On the other hand, that was surrendering to the silence. He stared pointedly at the minuscule mess in front of him. Unless she drastically changed how she fought, there was no way Szoni could have won in a fight without someone dripping blood where they least expected or needing to be dragged along the cobbles. There always was a trail- like those small splashes of red that dribbled off around the alley corner.

Ah. Bingo.

Laertes set off after it, taking care not to be spotted by the occasional flock of warmbloods that decided partying where nobody could see them was a good idea as he meandered across the backsides of rowdy streets. It was becoming less convincing that he was following some mere adventurer by the second. The track teetered this way and that, red streaks brushing erratically from wall to wall before the houses themselves came to an abrupt end, relenting to the elegance of the pale tower up ahead. 

Pretend elegance, that was.

While the tower’s marble arches and floral pillars meticulously supported each other like well-choreographed dancers mid-performance, nothing else did. Splinters of charcoal guarded doorways like rotten teeth, siblings to the remnants of multicoloured windows that crusted filigree frames. Mithral-coloured walls stood marred by scrawled profanities. Up close amongst a garden of broken glass and dead cinders, the tower looked less like dancers in the middle of their magnum opus and more like their skeletons in the middle of a mental breakdown. 

Laertes briefly wondered what Rosarieta would think of the mess before he marched up straight through the gaping entranceway.

_ Another room, another mess. _

Unsurprisingly, the damage was worse on the inside. A crusade and a half had coursed through the tower, leaving behind nothing coherent except more silver-robed corpses. How the tables have turned. 

_ Another room, another mess. _

Laertes picked his way through the debris, stench of blood and soot heavy in his mouth. The silence tolled heavily in his mind. Where would a wounded person in a desecrated church run? Not far, for sure. 

_ Another room, another- ah. _

There was a figure lying crumpled on the floor next to what looked like a half-axed cabinet, half-enveloped in a rough, dark cloak. 

Blood caked her yellow skirt and dark hair.

Laertes approached; delicately scooped her up into a bridal carry. A green glow pulsed as he pushed enough healing magic through her veins to seal the wound in her side shut for good.

His sister’s eyelids flutter half-open. Somewhere, the faint buzz of lightness that Laertes had lost since _ that man _ ’s interruption reignited itself.

“Hullo, Szonshine,” he grinned.

She weakly smirked back. “How did you get in trouble this time, Teatree?”

“Oh, I’m glad you asked.”


	3. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who forgot it was Wednesday a few days ago? This one :P

“I would bet on my charm with an archfey that you could end the whole world if there’s nobody keeping you in check, Teatree.”

Meeting back up with Yakli and Fleuron at the forests was surprisingly easy given the fact that Bredon showed no signs of sleep anytime soon. Or maybe that’s exactly why it was so easy. Revolutions don’t tend to stop for a few perceptive folks on too many drinks, after all.

“You’re safe to keep eating warmbloods with your charm then, Szonshine,” Laertes grinned. “I might be ending the world already, in a way.”

Szoni quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “That’s a bold claim even coming from you, Teatree.”

“Apparently there’s a giant army invading this continent from Aei’Thrallas. Levelled a few towns already. May or may not have anything to do with all the demonic invasions.”

She smirked, voice pitching up towards a familiar impersonal sweetness. “Forgot about the Mission completely, didn’t you?”

“Eh, I decided to leave it behind first. Purposefully. Did  _ you _ ?”

“I started paying people to help me in the last few months. Then your dusty face popped up in that little vision. Thank you for -what was it again?- aggravating that vampire of yours.”

“Anytime. Next time I’ll save a little for you to aggravate too.” 

Szoni shook her head, smirk lingering, as she sat up from her log. Beside her, Yakli stared impassively into the distance, too distracted to actually meditate. Like its town’s current state, the forests around Bredon bustled with nocturnal life, and every now and then an occasional insect would smack blindly into his large physique.

“Funny how we’re the ones to survive out of everyone, huh?” Laertes mused out loud after a few quiet moments. “What are the odds? One out of twenty-something…”

“To the fifth power. Fate wants us to grow a sense of humour, it seems.”

“Implying fate has a conscience.”

“Implying fate is a real force in the first place. Got you there.”

“Just playing along with you, Szonshine. You’ve got to try harder.”

“You’re the only one between the two of us who can go harder, Teatree.”

“You’re still a slut, I see.”

“And you’re still redundant,  _ I _ see.”

“Oh, I’m far less redundant than I was before.”

The two yuan-ti side-glanced at each other with mirroring expressions, green eyes challenging red. Now that he remembered what it was like, Laertes couldn’t help but admit to himself how much he missed the banter. Teasing Cleo didn’t come close.

“Are you going to elaborate then, Teatree?”

He grinned, readying himself to launch into an even longer dramatic retelling. And paused. “Actually, as much as I would love to, why don’t we wait for the other two before properly catching each other up?”

Szoni raised both perfectly groomed eyebrows this time. “Oh, are we getting Rearfang back together completely then?”

“Ishull’s idea, since apparently he found another lead on the Bow. Honestly, he probably aggravated that vampire as much as I did by stealing the Thread from her, so I’m not surprised if he’s just as responsible for this whole situation.” He yawned, all tendons and teeth. “Was going to just tag along for the sake of tying up loose ends, but now it’s probably not a bad idea to travel in a group.”

“Aw, you didn’t come just to find me for the sake of finding me then, Teatree?”

“I didn’t know that you were alive until last night, Szonshine. But if I did, I’d still wait until your life was in danger like tonight’s.” He winked. “I’m in the lead now, by the way.”

Szoni rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Not one to keep up with Bredon politics then, are you?”

“I visit north Arbrington once every double-eclipse, Szonshine. You won’t believe how slow news can travel south of Kawood if it’s not catastrophic.”

“Catastrophic like burning down Kawood.”

“Exactly-” The cosiness of the conversation abruptly flickered out as  _ caution _ spattered across the back of his head. “Fleuron sees someone along the path. We should move.”

Yakli reacted fast, slinging Szoni over a shoulder as Laertes dusted dead leaves off the back of his sash. They were swallowed by the forest’s darks before any footsteps could even reach earshot.

❧

The following days were dead calm compared to the previous one- anticlimactic even- though given the situation Laertes wasn’t surprised that if he simply spent some effort digging around he would come face-to-face with the tangle of chaos beneath the reflective surface. On any other day he would stroll straight up to meet it with a steady eye and an even steadier voice. He wasn’t indebted to Rearfang by any means; it certainly wouldn’t be a mistake to simply take off and go it alone.

But if he had learnt anything, it was that sometimes even pretending to take a little responsibility was worth it- mayhaps even for his old hatchmates who wouldn’t adore him like Arbrington’s local warmbloods would. 

Ishull and Mizshee were coming to Bredon. Presumably. They weren’t idiots, after all; they would know that he would beeline towards Szoni the moment he knew where she was. It would take quite a few days to travel from Naporia and Panoria to Bredon, especially given how careful they would have to be while travelling. For better or worse, Laertes was the one making concrete plans again.

“So we’ll lie low for a little bit. And wait.”

Safety wasn't an issue. Nobody was going to notice a yuan-ti from Lamala who has been spending his years traversing through forests unless they knew what to look for. Like the woodlands around Ivywood, Cleo’s territory contained plenty of glades to rest in or scout from or just do a little carving to pass time without worrying about some warmblood setting off an alarm call, even for someone as big as Yakli.

“You do enjoy being one with the dirt after all, Teatree.”

“And you don’t enjoy not being pampered like a warmblood, Szonshine.”

Food wasn’t an issue either. Between rations, what was left of the cooking, and dismembered meat from the crop of elves scattered amongst the trees, there was more than enough meat to last the wait- and maybe a few days of future travel. While there was a certain stigma around eating dead warmbloods that Laertes did his best not to poke at after swearing his Oath, there was no harm in being a little opportunistic at times, especially by burying the corpses with their heads and torsos intact at the reclusive roots of larger trees. It was more respectful than being strung up for every traveller to see, for sure.

“You’ve never wasted good meat and organs before.”

“Is it really a waste if feeding the forest gives me power?”

“That’s an excuse until you can elaborate to me what it means, Teatree.”

“Oh, I absolutely can’t wait. Let’s just say I become more invulnerable every day.”

Not unexpectedly, the most difficult thing was to actually try and find  _ something _ out about the elusive assassin and poisoner, and where they were headed. Bribing birds to look out for two travelling humanoids making their way along the wooded paths could only do so much, especially when one of the said humanoids might present himself as anything from a young courtier to an old hermit, and the other could turn into a snake at the drop of a hat.

As time blurred and crawled on like a wounded displacer beast, news of each town or city that recently overthrew their own branch of Children of Corellon and Paragons of the Prior coursed through roads and streets like heartblood. Zakalir. Clair View Point. Even Howe, south of Kawood. 

But avoiding the chaos certainly could not- would not- be a mistake either. The last time any of the Useless Diablerie was spotted was a few hours north of Zakalir a day ago, and there was no point in ruining that streak. Yet.

“Teatree,” Szoni hummed while the three yuan-ti watched the slipping dusk together for the second time since their reunion. “You seem a little restless.”

“Eh, I tend to find that I become stronger faster when I’m right in the middle of things. I’m just about as far away from anything as I can get right now.” Laertes finished scraping out the dirt and blood out from underneath his left index nail before methodically moving onto his next finger. “You talk like you’re complacent with this yourself, Szonshine.”

“I managed to gain a lot of influence in Bredon, Teatree,” she sighed, sweet disposition unchanged. “And now I’m hiding in the dirt with you.”

“You don’t like hiding in the dirt with me, Szonshine?”

“Do you feel like I mind, Teatree?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

She leaned into his side, neat nails fiddling with the crinkles in her silken shawl. The copper ring on her little finger caught the fading sunlight. “You did ruin everything I worked hard to achieve in the last seven years though.”

“Huh. Thought it’s been closer to a decade.”

“Looks like you’ve lost your sense of time along with the Mission, Teatree.”

“Time has always been a social construct, Szonshine.” In the far distance, the last tint of glowing yellow behind the talons of Bredon’s towers burned out to grey. “ _ Lady Crowe _ did ruin everything I worked hard to build up too.”

“Are you wanting to take her down then?”

He examined his nails a final time with a satisfied nod before replacing his gauntlet. “Sure, I don’t want her interfering with me again. As long as she stays down for good, of course.”

A coy half-grin crept across Szoni’s face. “So you’re saying you want to stick your sword deep into her.” 

“Oh, the deepest.”

“Fuck her well.”

“Her screams will be like music to my ears.” Laertes paused to mirror her expression. “Clearing my name does come first though. Yours too, if you want to keep doing whatever you were doing before. And Yakli.”

He was rewarded with a brief deadpan glance from the big guy staring out at the fading horizon.

Szoni slumped down as she huffed out a breath through her nose. “Some of the new guards around Bredon are starting to become suspicious of all the missing bodies. How much longer are we giving them?”

“Eh, I’d say to the end of the week before leaving them for dead.”

“Well if we’re going to keep standing around, I did leave a few possessions back in Bredon that I wouldn’t mind retrieving before someone really comes searching after us.”

“Tell me if you need me to come save you again if you get caught.”

“Thanks. I won’t.”

Laertes dryly chuckled as he poked her gently in the sternum. “Take Fleuron with you anyway. I can look for routes around Kawood by myself.”

“You won’t last half a day without anyone to talk to, Teatree.”

“Don’t bet your charm on it.”

❧

The most notable thing about Cleo’s territory, other than the more temperate climate and the thinner foliage, was the significant lack of intrusions by bored fey. On one hand- assuming some of them had also received the message- it was probably a blessing. On the other hand, the local wildlife could only be so informatively and engagingly talkative. Between his hour-long forages Laertes resorted to monologuing his various findings out loud to Yakli as the larger yuan-ti trained. When that stopped being an option, he whittled lizards out of dead branches and spoke to those instead.

Still, out of the two of them, he liked to think that Szoni ended up being the one to eat her words. As he traced across the cryptic tracks in this part of northern Arbrington that most travellers would miss, Laertes began to find the silence tolerable even without Fleuron nearby. Sure, it was like waiting for a mosquito bite to stop itching, but progress was progress. Whether this meant that he had lost or won its war was an entirely different discussion he couldn’t be bothered scrutinising over, especially given that it ended up taking another entire day of false alarms before the birds on lookout heralded the arrival of a notable pair of travellers treading through the morning mist. 

One was a woman with a flower in her mop of unkempt hair. The other was bald.

“We have a full house,” Laertes announced with a smirk over a breakfast of fingers and broth. 

Szoni replied without looking up from her hoard of gold. “You’ve already said that three times yesterday, Teatree.” 

“Ah, but I’m certain this time. How many completely hairless men do you know of in your life?”

“Quite a few, actually.” She collected her gold together and stood up, slinging her bag over a shoulder and tugging down the brim of her new hat. “But I suppose we can take a look.”

“Attagirl. Well, big guy?”

Yakli, uncharacteristically refined-looking in dyed linens, was already halfway across the glade with one hand outstretched to beckon for Fleuron.

“They get along well,” Szoni noted lazily. “You missed the spectacle of them dealing with the bandit that decided to follow me out of town yesterday.”

_ Did you now, Fleuron? _

A ripple of satisfaction. 

Laertes shook his head nonchalantly. “Killing people isn’t actually that great for my power, just so you’re aware.”

Szoni raised a now less-than-perfectly-groomed eyebrow at him, poignantly pausing for the imaginary responses of three absentees. “Well.”

“Yeah, I know.”

❧

They were ambushed halfway up a root-tangled track dappled by a sleepy sun. One second there was cautious quietness, the next second a tawny-clothed assailant had her mauve-tattooed arms wrapped around Szoni’s waist. 

Laertes could only half-chuckle at the inevitability. “Just couldn’t let us borrow the element of surprise for once, hm?” 

“Hello Te,” the figure mumbled through a mouthful of her hatchmate’s hair. “You hated surprises. Hello Yak.”

He sidled up to tap her on the head. “Hello yourself, Mizshee. Where’s Ishull?”

Someone cleared his throat softly behind them. A shorter someone. Laertes’s grin widened.

“Ah, of course. Took you some time, hm?”

The shorter someone tugged him twice on the back of his cape. “Inevitably. I’m quite amazed you stayed put here.”

“You’ll be twice as amazed when you realise we’ve been basically invisible.”

“I am, given the rumours of some renegade feyknight haunting the local trees. Eating elves.”

“Huh. Good thing we can now leave then.”

“Quite. Do you plan to head around Kawood?”

“But of course.” Laertes swivelled around on a heel to finally face his most capricious hatchmate again before making his way around Yakli and Fleuron to the front of Rearfang’s new marching order. The cycle of reunion was complete. Underwhelmingly so, but really it wasn’t anything to mind at this point. 

The silence had lost. End scene.


End file.
